They’re trying to imply — with love — that you’re nuts for going freelance, or trying to start your own company when you’d be classified as “entry level” in pretty much any agency you apply to (Though, let’s be real, all those free hours you spent interning should really count for more. #millenialproblems).

I know you’re doubting yourself, every minute of every day.

I know that despite the clients you’re attracting, the work you’re creating, and the money you could make, you’re terrified it’s all temporary, and soon your inexperience will to catch up with you — and you’ll make one major blunder that sinks the whole ship.

I know everyone else you meet in your field has 5, 10, even 20 years on you, and whenever anyone asks you your age you break out into a cold sweat.

I know almost no one believes you can do this, except maybe a couple of your best friend and family members.

But I believe you. And you believe you. At the end of the day, that’s all you need.

Keep your head down, and keep pushing. You’re going to be better than alright.

See you in a few years.

Love,

You.”

Can I be honest about something?

I turned 28 a few days ago. And even as I start flirting with 30, my age is still my biggest frustration.

Spilling that number — which feels like it should be totally arbitrary after 25, when my frontal lobe stopped developing — has never felt comfortable for me.

Since the beginning of my business, my age has always inspired a reaction: of surprise, of doubt (even distrust), or of total bewilderment.

Don’t get me wrong: It’s felt cool to be called a wunderkind once or twice. But historically, by no real fault than society’s expectations, my age has largely only served to make me feel reduced.

Last weekend, in my final days of 27, I was sitting in a hotel lobby with a client friend.

We’d both been speakers at a conference, and had spent the last few weeks working closely on her launch. Margaritas in hand, we were laughing about the niche we’re both a part of; toasting its past, present, and future.

Then she asked how old I was turning, and I felt that familiar twinge in my chest.

Ready means you can feel, in your bones, that you can really do something — and make money doing it — if you’d just muscle yourself forward.

Ready feels like the willingness to dip your toe, then your whole foot, and then your entire body into the water and swim for your life — even if you know the current’s rough.

Ready is that steady, calm feeling buried under all those layers of doubt the outside world has seeded into you — the feeling that assures you that whatever they might say, you know yourself. And you can do this.

Ready is focused. Ready is brave. Ready has no illusions about the journey ahead, but is excited about the challenge.

And trust me, my fellow young bloods: you’ll need to be ready, because you’re going to be treated differently for a while.

(Remember: No one needs to know your age. Don’t lie, but you don’t have to lay it right out on the table.)

People are going to tell you you can’t, shouldn’t, or mustn’t just based on the number of times you’ve personally orbited the sun.

They’ll tilt their heads, and click their tongues, and talk to each other privately about whether or not they feel you can do this, and why.

They might place bets. They might try to talk you out of it and feel they’re doing you a service.

But here’s the thing:

They don’t matter. Only you do.

Only you get this one precious, wild life, with all your talent, grit, and beautiful ideas to do whatever you like with.

Could you still fail? Hell yeah! And you should plan to, because you will.

But everybody fails, and everybody stumbles.

Being young may require you to topple over an extra time or two, but besides that? You’ll be learning and growing just like anybody 5, 10, or 20 years your senior.

If failure doesn’t frighten you enough to hold you back — and won’t bankrupt you?

Go for it.

Trust the “ready” you feel — it will guide you well for the rest of your life.

Listen to the voice within you. It’s the only one who’ll be accompanying you on this journey.

You know that feeling when you find a quote, and it smacks you across the brain like a ton of thought-provoking bricks?

On my internet travels last week, I stumbled upon a particularly awesome line from writer, transcendentalist, and neckbeard enthusiast Henry David Thoreau:

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”

Whoa.

It’s the sort of truth that pushes you forward by snapping at your heels.

Here’s why it hit me so hard: the longer I write and share ideas, the clearer it becomes that my intake of information must be equal to my output if I’m going to create anything worthwhile. It’s impossible to innovate and sculpt Epic Plans when I’m huddled over my keyboard with my head down, mass producing robot-style.

I can’t just come up with concepts out of thin air. Trust me – I’ve tried. I’ve got to consciously take time to glean inspiration from the world I write about. To frolic and play. Find myself in a crowd. Daydream. Muse.

I find myself falling increasingly in love with the slow, intent-driven roast of ideas.

I’m not talking about vegetating in front of the TV for “inspiration” here. I’m talking about holding a plan – a really good one – in your mind for a long while, filling in blanks you didn’t know were there.

But it seems thinking time isn’t at the forefront of anyone’s schedule these days. There’s such a sense of breakneck urgency governing every facet of our modern lives. It’s not a stretch to assume the constant rush is helped along by our ability to communicate & gobble up information at incredibly high speeds. People are constantly pushing to produce the next thing. To be the first to break the news. To just throw it up there. To launch, because “$#@$ it, it might as well be today,”.

What a sad concern to have – to fear that by taking time to let a concept truly develop, you risk getting left in the dust… But the good news is, it doesn’t have to be that way. Not really.

It took me a full year to get this website up. Why? The copy was written, the concepts created… I just wasn’t ready. I tried to convince myself I was just fussing and getting cold feet, but eventually I stopped trying to force what wasn’t prepared to happen. I honored my process. And when I did… well, I stood up to live.

To my friends and colleagues, maybe it looked like I was just putting it off. But inside my head, I had turned my focus to the things I wanted to discuss with the world: ideas about great writing and voice, creativity, brand development, ingenuity, art, inspiration, the hilarious land of memes. I wolfed it down and gave it time to digest.
So yes, I guess you could say I delayed or procrastinated. But because I did so with intent, it turned out to be a far more powerful tool than I realized.

Great things can & do happen rapidly, but they should never be rushed. Rushed means exhaustion and overlooked details. Canned personality instead of authenticity. Feeble metaphorical flailing instead of hard facts. And you, dear readers, deserve far better than that.

I like to think Thoreau would have approved.

The way you absorb the world around you has everything to do with what you squeeze back into it.

(That was a sponge metaphor, guys.).

Let’s take it over to Thoreau’s Walden for a second here.

He was huge on awareness & mindful observation as crucial components of the fully-realized human experience. He spoke often in his works about the importance of “being forever on the alert,” and of “the discipline of looking always at what is to be seen… It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look.” (Walden, IV & II)

Know what I’ve noticed? Every time I hit a creative wall, it’s because I haven’t left the apartment in way too long. Or I haven’t picked up a book in a while. Or I need to take a walk to a park, or have a conversation with an affable stranger. It’s a pretty beautiful realization to have actually, when you know you need new information to interpret as much as you need oxygen.

There’s no way to climb out of a creative hole without filling it up. You’ll just fall right back in. If you’re feeling stuck about an idea, or uncomfortable with a concept you’re about to reveal… have the courage to step back. For a day, a month, or however long you need.

It’s important to set a time limit of course, or you’ll ruminate yourself out of ever beginning. But don’t be afraid to hit pause. It might be the greatest gift you ever give yourself.